


You're The One That I Want

by da_petty



Series: Dream Weaver [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: Sherlock seduces John.





	You're The One That I Want

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm supposed to be working on In Your Dreams and it's 90% written but I needed a break so I wrote this for the hell of it. It's just a goof. I hope you like it.

“John.”

“What?” I said, without looking up from the paper. Once you made eye contact with Sherlock, all hope was lost.

“Aren’t you going to look at me?”

“Nope. Reading.” I rattled my paper to emphasize the obvious. We went through this daily. Me reading the paper, Sherlock interrupting me because he couldn’t stand it if I didn’t give him my undivided attention. The thing was; he usually didn’t want a thing, other than causing me to stop whatever I was doing. Well, not today, Sherlock!

“John. Let’s talk.”

“Later.”

“Later? When later?”

“You’ll be the first one I tell as soon as I know. Don’t you have an experiment or something that you should be working on?” I turned the page and kept scanning it but I hadn’t read a thing since Sherlock started whining. He was going to wear me down eventually. I knew it, and he knew it.

I was going to make a stand this time, I decided. Let him wait for a change. I didn’t care if I read another word so long as he became just as irritated as I was. 

A few minutes went by, and Sherlock was still standing in front of me. The only difference being that he wasn’t saying anything. He was just staring at me, willing me to look up. 

“Go. Away.” I knew that I was wasting my breath but, short of getting up and leaving, I was stuck. 

Suddenly, he slapped the newspaper right out of my hands. I was left with my hands still held up, pinching a tiny piece of what was left of the newspaper, between my forefingers and thumbs. 

I still hadn’t looked up yet. I could see Sherlock standing a little too close to me, his bare feet, toes curling and uncurling on the cold floor. 

“What the fuck, Sherlock!” I looked up to see Sherlock standing there, stark naked without one iota of embarrassment about his lack of clothes. My brain ground to a halt.

“Finally! We need to talk.” Sherlock said, as if it was every day that we chatted with he in the nude and I in my clothes.

“You’ve finally gone completely around the bend now, haven’t you?” I didn’t know where to look. My eyes kept sliding back to his penis. In my defense, it was hard to miss since it was completely erect and...pointed in my direction.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, although it was clearly rhetorical. He just stood there, as naked as the day he was born, idly scratching a hip. 

“What makes me...?!” I sputtered. “Go put some trousers on. Or pants, at the very least!”

“I’m afraid that I can’t do that, John.” He said in a weirdly monotone voice.

“Fucking hell! I regret watching 2001: A Space Odyssey, with you! Stop being weird. You know that I hate when you do that!”

“Weird? I’m just being myself.”

“Yeah. Well. Stop it!”

“You seem a little stressed, John. Problem?” He asked, oh so innocently.

“I’m going for a walk. I expect you to have your clothes on when I get back.” I rose to leave and he immediately stepped closer to me. Too close. WAY too close. 

I didn’t know where to look, my view was full of the currently pants-less Sherlock Holmes. I looked away.

“Ok, Sherlock. You wanted to talk, so talk. And make it quick before I knock you on your arse. And for the love of god, back up!” 

I raised my hands to his chest to shove him away. I swear that was my plan, but he leaned in and kissed me. Full on the lips. Kissing him back seemed the thing to do, and so I did. And it was wonderful.

“John. I’d like you to join me in my bedroom for an evening of fucking and sucking.” He looked into my eyes. “Because I’d love to have you.”

“This is all so sudden and I’m not gay, as you know.”

“How do you know? Have you ever tried it?” Sherlock asked this as if it was just something as easy as, ‘I like tea. I like biscuits. And now I like cock too.’

I thought for a moment, as if I had to think that hard for the answer. And; why was everything beginning to sound like sexual innuendo to me?

“Well, no. But I’ve never tried sawing off my hand and I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Apples and oranges, John. Apples and oranges. At least give it a try.” He took me by the hand and led me to his room. I went without a moment’s hesitation and I wondered what was wrong with me. Why was I being so cooperative? This seemed wrong. But, still, I went.

“Let me help you get out of those clothes, John. You look so uncomfortable.” Sherlock said as he began tugging at my zip. I let him help me and soon, I was completely naked as well, standing there with my own raging hard on. What the hell am I doing? I must be losing my mind.

“May I finger your arse, John? I’d really like to do that.”

“Sure.” Wait! What? Yep. I’d clearly gone bonkers.

Sherlock produced a bottle of lube, seemingly from nowhere, and gestured to the bed.

“I can’t decide how to pose you.” Sherlock stood, tapping a finger on his chin, thinking.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” Ok. Something was wrong with me. Had Sherlock drugged my tea - again?

“I think I’d like you to lie, face down, on the bed.”

Pillows appeared and were shoved under my abdomen, raising my arse and making it easily accessible for whatever Sherlock might have in mind. 

I knew that I should say no. I didn’t want this. Did I? I hadn’t needed much convincing though. My subconscious had to be leading me. I decided to stop thinking about it and just go with the flow. Then I felt Sherlock’s finger gently circling my hole and I shivered. I’d never been fingered before. This was interesting. Definitely interesting.

“Do you like this, John?” He asked. I admitted that I did.

“Do you mind if I insert my finger now?” He asked this as if it was an everyday occurrence.

“Sure.” I said. And then I was being penetrated by the great detective, Sherlock Holmes, and it was beyond anything I’d ever felt before. It was amazing.

As his finger began to slide slowly in and out of my hole, I began humping the pillows. I wasn’t even embarrassed. I mean, I already had a finger up my arse, what difference did it make if I humped a hole in the pillows?

“Second finger...” And the second finger slid in as easily as the first. It didn’t hurt at all. Shouldn’t it hurt? 

“Third finger, John...”

“Wait! That was quick!” I protested but it was too late, I now had three of Sherlock’s fingers in my arse and it felt surprisingly good. In fact, it felt like more and I groaned loudly.

“That’s right. Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.” He said. And he was doing a good job of convincing me of that fact.

“I want to fuck you now, John.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hang on. I don’t know that I’m ready for all that yet.” I said, pushing myself up on my elbows.

“Yes, you are.” He said and pushed me back down with a hand on my back.

“I promise you that this will be the best experience that you’ve ever had.” Sherlock purred. 

“Um...ok. I guess. Just, take it easy, would you? I’ve never done this before.” I said, nervously.

“I know and I’m honored to be the first person to penetrate you. I hope to do so on many occasions in the future. Would you like that?”

“Um...Sure. I guess. It sort of depends on how this goes...” Without me even realizing it, Sherlock had climbed onto the bed, and knelt between my legs, the head of his cock pressing against my shy entrance.

“I love you, John. I always have. I always will.” The next thing I knew, he’d rammed his entire length home, no hesitation. No gradual introduction of what now seemed to be a much larger cock on the inside of me, than it had appeared when I first saw it on the outside.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” He asked, without a trace or remorse or doubt.

“Actually. It doesn’t. That’s odd. It actually feels good.” And it did. Sherlock Holmes was balls deep in my arse and it actually felt good. Why had I wasted all of this time when we could have been shagging like rabbits for years. I pressed back against Sherlock impatiently. He laughed.

“I told you you’d like it. I’m always right. You know that John.” And he began to move inside me.

“That’s not truuuuuuuuuue oooh!” He was pounding my arse so hard, the bed was sliding back and forth across the wooden floor. The headboard rhythmically banging against the wall.

“Shhh....” He whispered. “I know what you need. Let me give it to you.” He said without breaking stride.

“OMG!” He’d hit my prostate and I saw stars. My cock throbbed and I began forcing myself back on his cock in counterpoint to his thrusts. I was well and truly lost in ecstasy.

“I’m going to come inside of you, John. Would you like that?” He asked, his voice all smokey and hot.

“YES! Please!!” 

He laughed again.

“You first.” 

His right hand reached under the pillows and gripped my cock. I lifted a bit to allow for easier access. When had he lubed his hand? Shouldn’t that have been used up already? And then he was stroking my cock, first gently, and then roughly, as if there was a time limit. It felt so good though, I couldn’t complain.

My cock was leaking now and I knew that I was about to come. How long had this been going on? I’d lost all track of time. 

“I’m going to make you come, Doctor Watson. Right. Now!” And on the last stroke, I was coming and coming and coming. It was the most amazing orgasm I’d ever had and I shuddered in pleasure.

Sherlock thrust into me a few more times and then pulled my hips tightly against his and I could feel his cock pulsing inside of me as he came.

“Well? What did you think? Are you gay now? Have you been gay all of this time and not known it?” Sherlock asked.

“It would seem so.” And Sherlock, whose cock was still firmly seated inside of me, began pumping his hips again. Fucking me as if he hadn’t just come.

“I’m going to fuck you all night, John. I’m going to make you come until there’s nothing left. You won’t be able to sit for days by the time I’ve done with you.”

My cock was, amazingly, completely rigid again as he reached around and began stroking me. 

“I don’t think I can come again this sooooooon...” And I was coming! Again, and again, and again.

I’d been fucked to within an inch of my life and had loved every minute of it. Now, I just wanted to sleep and closed my eyes. Sherlock began tugging at my arm.

“John. John. John!! Wakeup! You’re having that dream again.”

I opened my eyes to see Sherlock laying in bed next to me, as he had every morning for the past six months. My pants were stuck to my cock. It seemed that I wasn’t too old for nocturnal emissions, I thought ruefully. 

“Which one was it this time?” Sherlock asked.

“The one where I’m reading the newspaper and you slap it out of my hands followed by a quick seduction and some amazing, head banging sex.” I replied. “You fucked the hell out of me!”

“Ah. I love that one. Care to recreate it?”

I looked down at my shriveled penis. Unsure if it was up to the task. It was worth a try.

“Sure.” I said, peeling off my pants.

“Can I finger your arse, John?” Sherlock asked with a smile.

“Absolutely.” I said. 

Sherlock reached for the lube.

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“And I, you, John Watson.” He swooped down and kissed me while somehow managing to slide his finger into me at the same time.

“You’re a talented man.” I said.

“I know.” He said, smugly.

We spent the entire day in bed and it was glorious.


End file.
